


You're Scaring Me

by dolliewithasmile



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Controlling Behavior, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Mental Illness, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-06-30 12:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15751374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolliewithasmile/pseuds/dolliewithasmile
Summary: An in-depth look into Jerome and Jeremiah's life at the circus, the death that would fracture the Valeska family, Jerome's position as the Mad King of Gotham and the domino effect that lead Jeremiah to his fall from grace.I'll include trigger warnings, there's gonna be quite a few.Canon-divergent in some spots.





	1. Lesion

It was just another normal day for Jerome Valeska: wake up to find his mother slumped over on their small kitchen table, drunk and drooling with her stained panties in her fist; get beaten for not finishing his homework the previous evening while Jeremiah looked on stone-faced; get a knock against the back of the head when he refused to eat the slop his mother plopped on his plate, it was the same every single day of his miserable existence. The beatings never stopped, but, he preferred his mother's fists to his uncle's, or his mother's long string of lovers; they had always hit harder, much harder than his mother ever could, and all the while Jeremiah would watch, his eyes unblinking and emotionless. 

It was Jerome's sixteenth birthday, not that anyone acknowledged it. Lila had a cake made and presented it to Jeremiah, complete with birthday candles that were lit. "Make a wish, baby." She cooed and kissed his cheek. Jerome's eyebrows furrowed as he watched, his stomach twisting with envy. When Jeremiah looked at him, Jerome forced a smile, his eyes screaming to his twin brother: "Please, don't forget about me like she does"; but Jeremiah just turned his attention back to his cake and blew out the candles, already carving into the cake without a second thought to his brother. Jerome had to sit and watch as they ate cake, not even offering him a slice, he sighed and opened the door to their trailer.

"Where d'you think you're goin'?" His mother's voice called, he could smell the rum on her breath from here.

"Out." He answered and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. There'd be a beating coming for him when he came home for sure, but he would deal with that later, for now he needed some peace. Jerome ran a quivering hand through his red hair, fighting back tears and sniffling, what was wrong with his brother? Why wouldn't he help him? Jeremiah was the eldest, why wouldn't he step in and save him, or at the very least remind their mother that Jerome existed and that it was _his_ birthday as well?

Rage and hurt boiled within Jerome's body, it hurt in places he didn't even know he had. His hands trembled as he fished a cigarette from his pocket, one of the many he had swiped from his mother's purse, and placed it between his lips as he walked to the outskirts of the circus' perimeter. Jerome lit the cigarette and breathed in the harsh smoke slowly, he pulled the cigarette from his lips, his lungs burning as he slowly exhaled the smoke through his nose. He wiped a stray tear from his cheek as he looked on at the rest of the city beyond him, all those souls going on about their daily lives, many coming to the circus to be wowed and amazed, all the while ignorant of the disease that festered within every tent: drugs, alcohol, fornication, abuse, the circus had it all, but no one ever said anything. "It's the carny code, we look after our own, and we say nothing." His mother had told him once. Jerome scoffed and took another drag from his cigarette when he heard soft footsteps coming from behind him, but he knew these footsteps, and the sound of the cane that accompanied them. 

"Those things will kill you." Cicero said in his raspy voice. He placed a hand on Jerome's back, fumbling to find his shoulder.

Jerome chuckled sarcastically, "Would that be so bad?" The corners of his mouth stretched as he smiled, it was a fantasy he had had for years, one well placed bullet and he would drift into a blissful eternal sleep where his mother and her amors could never get to him. 

"You shouldn't talk like that." Cicero sighed.

"It's my sixteenth birthday today." Jerome exhaled smoke and winced as the smoke stung his lungs.

"Happy Birthday."

"Not for _me_ , alls I got for my birthday was a knock against my head, while Jeremiah gets a birthday cake with candles.." Jerome whispered, his gaze turning to the cloudy sky above.

"The world isn't fair, Jerome, it never will be. Best to realize that now and move on." Cicero's hand fell from Jerome's shoulder and he sighed.

Jerome looked to Cicero, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed in anger. Everyone saw it, he knew they did, everyone knew what his mother and her lovers did to him, and yet no one did anything. "We look after our own." his mother had said, _what a liar_. The circus was his family, the only one he had ever known, and it turned on him. 

"I believe your mother is looking for you." Cicero said after a moments silence. He gave Jerome's right shoulder blade a pat and turned, swishing his cane from side to side as he left. Jerome sighed and bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering as tears welled up in his eyes. He furiously wiped his tears away and took a long pull from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground, grinding it under his boot. _Back into the fray._

Jerome's hand paused at the handle of the door to their trailer, he inhaled deeply through his nose before opening the door. 

"There you are! Who do you think you are running off like that? It's your brother's birthday! God for-fucking-bid you sing him "Happy Birthday"!" Lila growled, slapping the side of his head as he entered the trailer.

"I'm sorry, mother." Jerome whispered, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He looked to his brother who was sitting on the couch, his legs crossed as he scribbled on a notepad in his lap. 

Jeremiah lifted his head, looking into Jerome's eyes, his face expressionless. 

"Happy Birthday, Jeremiah." Jerome looked away quickly, he hated that frozen look in his brother's eyes, they were so unreadable. 

"Jerome." Lila called from her bedroom.

Jerome grit his teeth and clenched his fists, hating hearing his name called in such a tone. He cast a glance to Jeremiah, watching as the older twin busied himself with his notepad, no doubt drawing up more puzzles. He envied his brother, Jeremiah had an intelligence that Jerome couldn't hope to have, even after days of studying nothing clicked in his mind like it did for Jeremiah. Jeremiah needed but a few minutes, if that, to solve the most complicated of tasks, and Jerome could tell Jeremiah loved the praise he got by their mother for his achievements: his latest being skipping four grades from sixth to tenth.

" _Jerome_!" Lila screamed, appearing in the doorway of her bedroom with a basket full of clothes in her arms. "Can you not hear me or something? Am I talking to myself?"

Jerome smirked as he held back a snicker, thinking of a comeback he could've thrown in her face. He had to admit, though he wasn't academically inclined like Jeremiah, he did have skills his brother didn't possess, he had an incredibly quick wit and a wonderful sense of humor. True, it wouldn't get Jerome a scholarship to a prestigious school, but it was better to be a class clown than the emotionally numb robot that was his brother. He shook the joke from his mind and sighed inaudibly, "I heard you, mother, I'm sorry."

Lila rolled her eyes, "Get these clothes washed. _Now_." She motioned to the small mountain of clothes emerging from the basket in her arms.

"Why can't Jeremiah do it?" Jerome whined, but he quickly silenced himself when he saw his mother's expression. 

"I said wash these clothes. Boy, if I have to tell you again-"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Jerome quickly stepped over to his mother and grabbed the basket from her. She gave him yet another whap against the side of his head and he stumbled for a moment as he walked away, his head feeling fuzzy from the whiplash. He sighed and opened the door, taking the basket of clothing out with him to the washing basin near their trailer. 

"It would all go easier if you didn't talk back to her." Jeremiah's voice made Jerome jerk in surprise. 

Jerome's lips pursed and he scoffed, "I'll keep that in mind." He said sarcastically and growled in annoyance as he dumped the clothes into the basin full of soapy water. Jeremiah stood with his back against the back of the trailer, scribbling in answers to the cross word of the Gotham City Newspaper. 

Jerome grabbed the scrub brush from the water and began to wash his mother's clothes, rage boiling inside of him as he washed pair after pair of stained panties and skirts. He wasn't a fool, he knew what it all meant, he had heard it many times, his mother wasn't exactly quiet when her gentlemen callers came to visit. "You know, you _could_ help me with this and it would get done a lot faster.." He grumbled to Jeremiah, casting a glance over his shoulder at him.

"But there are so many more pressing matters at hand, dear brother. Like this." Jeremiah stepped forward, "Let's see if you can get it." He grinned wide, knowing all too well Jerome didn't have a head for crosswords, much less the difficult ones that the Gotham newspaper printed out.

Jerome sighed in annoyance and dropped the brush and turned, crossing his hands over his chest. "Please, by all means, don't leave me in _suspense_." He rolled his eyes. 

"The clue is: An immoral pleasure seeker - a gardening tool." Jeremiah smirked, there was no way Jerome would ever guess the word "rake".

Jerome thought for a second and a delightful answer came to him, "A hoe!" He snickered and held his stomach as he laughed. "If it's a _four_ letter word you need, you could always use "Lila"!"

Jeremiah's upper lip twitched, he set his teeth. "Careful, that is our mother you're talking about."

Jerome's laughter immediately died, his nostrils flared in anger and he stepped closer to Jeremiah, "You know it too, big bro. I know you hear it too. How many men was it last night? Three, I'm guessing. Hey! You wanna make a _bet_? I bet it was the snake man, one of the Greysons, and the strong man, what about you? Whose snakes do you think mom charmed last night?" He chuckled, his chuckle soon giving way to a much darker cackle of a laugh.

Jeremiah's eyebrows furrowed as he watched Jerome, "I have an idea. How about I let mother in on one of your little secrets, hm? How many cigarettes have you pilfered from her this past week? Ten, I'm guessing, though I was a bit caught up with schoolwork this week, I may have lost count." He smirked.

Jerome's smile fell and his laughter died down, his eyes looking into Jeremiah's with hurt, "Why do you always take her side? What did I ever _do_ to you?" His voice cracked. 

Jeremiah stepped forward, gritting his teeth, "Exist." He hissed under his breath and turned around, humming softly to himself as he walked away and lost himself to his crossword, his shoulders light and relaxed as if the word he had told Jerome hadn't just torn open the heart of the younger twin.

Jerome threw himself into his work, mumbling angrily as he scrubbed his mother's clothes. He wanted nothing more than to run away, but where would he get the money for it? Any amount of money that he made helping out was immediately given to Lila, he hadn't seen a cent in all his time working there. Dark thoughts began to circle his mind, _I could always lock mother up in a chest with Sheba, how long would it take before her dearly beloved pet finally gave into hunger and ate her alive?_ He shook his head with a huff, he hated having those thoughts but they just wouldn't stop, with each beating they came more and more. _And what about dear brother? I could peel off his skin and dip him into a vat of bleach._ He couldn't deny the fact that those thoughts were the only things that kept him going anymore, the hope for revenge against his abusive mother and the brother that never did a thing to help him.

Jerome hung up all his mother's clothes on the clothes line and groaned, leaning back to crack his sore back. He could hear the bands beginning to play and the ruckus of the clowns as they headed to the big top to begin their performance. He noticed something skittering around in the bushes near him and his eyebrows furrowed, "Hello?" He called.

A girl's head slowly emerged from the bush, loose black curls falling into her green eyes. "Please don't kick me out." She said as she held out her hands in defense.

"Why would I?" Jerome stepped closer to her, walking slowly so as to not scare her off. 

"I snuck in. I didn't have the money for a ticket." She bit her lower lip and looked away. 

Jerome smiled, "It's okay, it happens a lot around here. I won't tell." He held out his hand, his fingers still pruned from washing clothes. "I'm Jerome."

"I'm-"

"Jerome, mother said-" Jeremiah stopped in his tracks, his breath stilling when he saw the girl beside Jerome. "Who's this?" He straightened his back and lifted his chin.

"Oh wow, there's two of you." The girl laughed softly, "I'm Opal." She smiled. 

"I'm Jero-"

"Jeremiah Valeska." Jeremiah held out his hand to shake Opal's hand.

"Uh..hi." Opal smiled and shook his hand. "Bit formal, aren't ya?" She teased and looked over at Jerome. "And you?"

Jerome felt his cheeks turn a soft shade of pink, "I'm Jerome." He waved awkwardly.

Jeremiah watched Opal out of the corner of his eye, his lip twitching in anger when her attention was stolen by his brother. "Jerome." He called to get his brother's attention.

Jerome fought the urge to growl in frustration, "What?" He asked bitterly. "Do I need to clean the chimney now? Sweep the hearth, change out the chamber pots, your highness?" He did an over exaggerated curtsy and Opal giggled.

Jeremiah clenched his fists for a moment, but steeled himself. He smirked, "Not _today_. Mother said to get Sheba from her cage, she's on in five minutes. I suppose that means I'll be left to entertain Miss Opal myself." He said and looked over at Opal, his eyes almost predatory. 

Jeremiah's words caused Jerome's smile to fall. Jerome sighed, "Fine." He growled under his breath, "I'll see ya Opal, enjoy the show." He bowed deeply and gave her a wink before leaving, his gaze shifting to watch his brother like a hawk.

Jeremiah turned to Opal with a smile, his hands clasped behind his back. "Sneaking into the circus, were we?" He asked, an eyebrow quirked.

Opal blushed, "Yeah..I didn't have the money for a ticket. This would be my first time seeing it." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Allow me to escort you to the front row, then." Jeremiah held out his arm for Opal. 

Jerome opened Sheba's cage and gathered her in his hands. "Come on, I don't have all day." His mother said with a scoff as he draped the snake over his mother's shoulders. He smirked as he stood behind her, how easy it would be to wrap his hands around her throat and choke the life from her and blame it on the snake. No one would ever suspect him, they'd chalk it all up to a snake with a bad attitude.

Lila turned to face Jerome, she looked him up and down with dissatisfaction and huffed, turning to walk toward her tent. 

Jerome growled and ground his teeth, he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand all of this. His life was a misery, the only highlight of his day was when he was granted a few hours of sleep, when everything stopped and went black, the lack of being felt incredible. In sleep there were no beatings, no disapproving glances from his mother, no brother to upstage him in every venture. Over the years, Jerome's trigger finger became itchy, he often fantasized about killing himself, then it would all be over. But how would he do it? Knife? Gun? Jumping off of the Gotham bridge? The idea of suicide was attractive, but the only downside was that it was forever, and more than that, he could only do it _once_. 

Jeremiah walked with Opal to the big top, letting her into the side entrance. "After you." He smiled charmingly, an expression he had learned from watching others, though it felt more like a mask he wore than an actual expression. He took Opal to the front seats at the left side and sat down, motioning for her to sit beside him. She whispered a "thank you" and watched with wonder as the Flying Graysons did their trapeze act, often grabbing his arm in shock and worry when they did their more dangerous stunts. Jeremiah watched her with fascination, his eyes roaming over her body, and when her eyes met his he felt something warm inside him, if only for a moment. 

Jerome pulled back the tent flap and watched Jeremiah and Opal from afar, his stomach twisting with jealousy, was this to be yet another thing his brother won? Not if he could help it. Jeremiah's eyes glanced over at Jerome and he smirked, wrapping his arm around Opal's shoulders, he raised an eyebrow and lifted his chin with pride. Check.

Jerome let the tent flap loose and walked over to one of the many smaller circus tents just outside the big top, he peeked inside to make sure it was empty and pulled out his mother's lighter he had stolen a while back. He glanced around to make sure he was alone, flicked the lighter and held the flame to one of the flaps, watching as the canvas quickly began to burn, twisting and blackening from the heat. He hurried away from the fire and ran to the trailer, making sure to stay out of sight. He stepped into the trailer and watched from the window, his heart pounding as he watched the tent engulf in flames. 

"Fire!" Someone screamed, and one screaming voice soon became two and countless others as they scrambled to put out the blaze. The guests and performers inside the big top were evacuated, Jeremiah held Opal's hand as he ran out of the tent, his eyes immediately looking towards the source of the fire. Check. 

"Get to the trailer, I'll be right back." Jeremiah gave her a small shove in the direction of his mother's trailer and rushed over to the burning tent. By the time he got there, the canvas had peeled away from the internal structure of the tent, leaving behind the bare metallic bones of the tent poles and various burning clothes and boxes. His gaze dropped to the ground and he slowly circled the tent as people busied themselves to put out the remaining fire. Jeremiah's lips peeled over his teeth in a wide grin when he found what he had been looking for, if Jerome could be counted on anything, it was fucking up even the smallest of tasks. Check.

Jerome exited the trailer and met up with Opal, "What happened? I heard screaming." He asked, nervously chewing his lower lip.

"I'm not sure, one of the tents caught on fire." Opal said out of breath, fear increasing her heart rate. 

"It's okay, I'm here, you're safe." Jerome placed his hand on her shoulder with a smile.

"Oh, _isn't_ she?" Jeremiah asked with a grin, his hands shoved into his pants pockets. "You can go now, Opal, the show is over."

Opal looked between the twins for a moment and nodded, "Um..okay. Bye, I..guess." She gave the brothers a wave and stepped forward to mold herself into the evacuating crowd.

Once Opal was out of sight and earshot, Jeremiah stepped forward. "Nicely played, brother." He paced around Jerome, "Though, I am a bit disappointed, you forgot one little thing."

"What are you talking about?" Jerome scoffed.

Jeremiah heard the telltale sound of his mother's bare footsteps coming from behind him, and right before Jerome's eyes Jeremiah's expression changed to that of worry. Jerome felt his stomach twist, he hated seeing that change in his brother, his brother could change faces almost as if they were masks, moving seamlessly to any expression he deemed the right one at the moment, but nothing could change the dead eyes that lay beneath the mask. "No.." Jerome whispered with wide eyes as he frantically searched his pockets but found them empty. 

"Are you alright?!" Lila asked.

Jeremiah gave a wink to Jerome before turning to his mother, letting his eyebrows furrow and his mouth turn down into a frown. "Mother, it was so scary!" He said in a panicked voice, clutching onto his mother. " _He_ did it, mother, _he_ did it." Jeremiah whispered as he pulled out a lighter from his pocket that was black with soot. "Jerome set that fire!" Check mate.

Jerome's eyes widened, "No! I didn't! I-"

"You stupid boy!" Lila looked down at the lighter and growled. She smacked Jerome across the face palm down and then backhanded him. "How dare you! This is our _home_ , our _family_!" She huffed. "Clearly my discipline is lacking." She turned around and scanned the crowd for a familiar face. "Steve!" She hollered, calling over the snake man. He perked his head up like the good puppy dog he was under her spell and walked over to her. "My boy needs to be taught a lesson, I suppose my tough love wasn't tough enough."

Jerome's bottom lip quivered, "Please..n-no..PLEASE!" He yelled, holding his hands up.

Jeremiah watched as the snake man grabbed Jerome by his hair, dragging him to the outskirts of the circus. He could still feel the heat on his skin from the fire, could feel the rush the flames had given him, he twirled the lighter between his fingers and gave a wink to Jerome when his brother shot a helpless glance his way. 

Jerome managed to swallow his screams each time Steve kicked him in the stomach, his insides burned and his lungs ached from trying to catch his breath, but each time he went to inhale came another kick, stealing away any air left within him. The sides of his vision started to blacken and twinkle from the lack of air, when finally Steve stilled in his actions. Jerome took in a deep breath and panted, clutching at the dewey grass beneath him. Steve thrust his hand forward, the first punch hit Jerome in his right eye, almost instantly blackening it, while the second collided with his nose. Jerome finally let out a scream.


	2. Hemoglobin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Self Harm, attempted suicide, and graphic animal death.

Jerome awoke to the sound of a bed creaking, following by the all too familiar moans of his mother. He growled in frustration and pressed his pillow to his ears in an attempt to muffle the sound, but it didn't work, it never did. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing when his feet touched the cold floor, he stood up and cracked his back with a small groan. He hated having to sleep on a pullout couch, the bed was rat chewed and had a dip in the center that always gave him a sore back in the morning, while Jeremiah got a real bed and his own room at the other end of the trailer, safe from hearing all of Lila's trists. Jerome pulled on a pair of socks that were littered with holes, and gathered his jeans from the floor and slid them on. He slid into his shoes and pulled on his leather jacket over his ratty tshirt, that jacket had always been his favorite piece of clothing, one of the rare good finds in the lost and found, true it was a size too big, but it was his favorite all the same.

Jerome quietly creeped over to his mother's purse on the kitchen table and slid his hand into it, withdrawing a cigarette and a lighter. He cupped his hand around the flame as he lit the cigarette and let the lighter drop back into her purse before walking over to the front door. He slowly turned the lock and eased the door open, trying his best to be quiet and not wake anyone up. Jerome closed the door behind him and walked to the outskirts of the circus near the cliffs, inhaling the smoke deeply before letting it drift from his nostrils. He sat down on the cliff, his feet dangling over the edge as he looked out at the city, watching the cars that littered the Gotham Bridge. He sighed as tears began to fill his eyes, when they were young Jeremiah had called him a cry baby, how right he was. All Jerome had ever known was pain, he could remember every single punch, every kick, every tug of his hair, and by far the worst pain he had ever felt: the night his uncle had stuck his hand into a pot of boiling chicken stock.

Jeremiah and Jerome had dared one another to steal one of their uncle's snickerdoodle cookies, but Jeremiah had "chickened out", and Jerome, ever the one to prove himself, went along with the deed. They had both known all too well the length of their uncle's violent tendencies, but his cooking was delicious and after yet another disappointing meal by their mother, they were hungry and desperate for anything edible. Jerome had hopped the counter of his uncle's diner and carefully removed the lid to the cookie jar and reached his hand in when his uncle appeared, he grabbed Jerome by the back of his neck and dragged him to the stove, all the while berating him for being a thief and a troublemaker. His uncle had held him still at the stove, forcing him to watch a pot of chicken stock come to a boil before he grabbed Jerome's small hand and thrust it forward into the boiling liquid. Jerome had screamed out in pain and fought against him, but his uncle had covered his mouth and kept him still. Five seconds. That's all it had been, though it felt more akin to an eternity. His uncle let him go and stepped over to the sink, turning on the cold tap. "Clean yourself up." He barked.

Jerome rushed over to the sink, cradling his injured arm and held it under the cold water, sighing in relief when the burning sensation began to lessen. He looked over at Jeremiah, and that's when he saw it, the complete absence of empathy that Jeremiah had for him, he stood there stone faced but for a sparkle in his eyes, and that was when Jerome knew: Jeremiah never intended on stealing a cookie, he had baited him, knowing full and well that Jerome would be caught and severely punished by their uncle, and Jeremiah had wanted it to happen. Ever since that day, Jerome had seen Jeremiah for what he was, he was nothing more than a monster.

Jerome fished the switchblade from his jacket pocket and looked at it, flipped it open and admired the gleam the moonlight cast on it. He couldn't keep up with this existence, it was exhausting just to live, all he was was a punching bag for his mother and a little marionette that danced for Jeremiah whenever he pulled on his strings. He wasn't free, he was nothing more than a prisoner. Jerome took one last drag from his cigarette and crushed the tip against the ground. He pulled his sleeve up and held the knife to the skin of his right wrist and pressed the blade down as he slid it backward, the sharp steel slicing through his skin with ease, his skin parting to reveal crimson red underneath. He hissed in pain and sniffled as tears fell, their salt stinging his open wound. He commanded himself to push further, just a little more and he would finally be free, he would be granted the eternal sleep where neither his mother nor her lovers could touch him, but he couldn't do it.

Jerome growled in frustration and put the knife away, giving one last glance to his gashed wrist, he tried to tear his eyes away, but something stopped him. He had never seen so much blood at once before, even after all the beatings he had endured throughout his life. There was something mesmerizing in the color, he pressed two fingers to the wound and winced in pain for a moment before bringing his fingers close to his face to examine them. His blood almost looked black under the light of the moon, and it was hot and sticky against his skin, he felt his heartbeat speed up and he felt his mind swarm with chemicals, a smile stretching at the corners of his mouth. Jerome found himself cackling through his tears, laughing so hard that his stomach began to hurt, by the time the sun began to rise, his vocal cords were raw and weak from so much laughter. What was this feeling? And why did it feel so good?

Jerome went back home and grabbed a long sleeve shirt and hurried into the bathroom. He shrugged out of his jacket and held his arm under the cold water, hissing at first, but the pain soon subsided and he found himself hypnotized watching his blood turn transparent after hitting the water and going down the drain, how long he had stared, he wasn't sure. Jerome bandaged his arm up and changed into his long sleeve shirt, he opened the bathroom door and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Jeremiah standing there.

"What were you laughing at?" Jeremiah asked, his eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side.

"I wasn't." Jerome raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yes, you were, in the bathroom. You're still smiling."

Jerome brushed past Jeremiah and slowly pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips, Jeremiah had been right, he _was_ smiling, almost to the point where it hurt, and he had been laughing? How could he have not been aware of that? Jerome waited until Jeremiah stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, he rushed over to his pullout bed and reached under the mattress to grab his journal, he sat down and quickly began to scribble out his discovery just an hour prior and how it had made him feel. He hadn't felt that alive in a long time. When Jeremiah shut off the sink, Jerome quickly tucked his journal back into its hiding place and sat down, trying his best to look nonchalant. Jeremiah looked his way and he stared for a moment, his expression not changing. Jerome offered a smile, to which Jeremiah's upper lip twitched, and he went back into his room.

Jerome let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, but his relief didn't last long. He heard muffled sounds coming from his mother's room, then a loud smack-no doubt a spank on the backside-followed by a giggle and the shuffling sound of someone getting dressed. The Snakeman stepped out of Lila's room and he sneered at Jerome, Jerome looked away and avoided his gaze, his stomach twisting in fear at the remembrance of his beating just a day prior. The Snakeman left the trailer and Lila threw open her door, she stepped into the kitchen wearing her nightgown, her hair a mess and her skin covered in hickies. Jerome's lips pursed in anger and he clenched his fists, he forced himself to look away.

"Where's my breakfast?" She asked as she reached into her purse for a cigarette.

Jerome sighed softly, rubbing his tired eyes, "I'm sorry, I forgot, I-" His gaze lifted and he saw his mother looking at him with a disgusted look.

"I work my ass off for this family, while you do absolutely nothing all day, is it too much to ask that breakfast gets made?!" She fussed, slamming her hands down on the table.

Jerome smirked, "You work your ass off, alright." He giggled before he could stop himself.

Lila stepped forward and backhanded him, "Don't get smart."

"How could I? Jeremiah's the smart one." Jerome bit back, looking up at her in anger, his hands trembling.

"And he'll be the only Valeska to make anything of himself, but you? You'll rot here, just like the rest of us." Lila said bitterly, "Now make breakfast." She brushed past him and walked to the bathroom.

Jerome ground his teeth together, images of him pressing her face to the hot stove rushing through his mind. He shook the thought from his head and stood, walking over to the fridge, he opened it and pulled out eggs and bacon, grimacing at the sight of them. It was pavlovian at this point, every time Lila had a tumble in the sheets with someone, she'd come into the kitchen with a craving for eggs and bacon, just the thought of cooking those foods made Jerome's stomach twist violently, almost to the point of vomiting. Jerome scrambled the eggs in the pan and smirked as an idea occurred to him, he snorted and spit into the eggs, giggling to himself as he mixed the mucus into the eggs.

"I saw that." Jeremiah said softly, Jerome hated how soft his footsteps were, he could never tell when he was coming up behind him.

"I don't care. She should feel lucky I don't-" Jerome stopped himself, he ground his teeth and clenched his fists, forcing himself to keep quiet, Jeremiah was a mama's boy through and through, mouthing off around him wasn't the best idea.

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed as he watched his brother, he could see what everyone else couldn't, Jerome was nothing but a volcano on the cusp of eruption, and there would be no stopping it.

Lila stepped back into the room after finishing up in the bathroom, Jerome looked over at her and set his teeth, no doubt she had to scrub her privates after her encounter with The Snakeman. Jerome giggled to himself when a sudden thought popped into his mind.

"What are you laughing at?" Lila barked, her hands on her hips.

Jerome remained silent, near splitting at the seams as he tried to hold back his laughter, finally he couldn't take it anymore. "Just wonderin' ma, does The Snakeman's cock shed its skin like his pet cobra does?" He asked and cackled, slapping the counter as he laughed.

Lila fumed, "You watch your fucking mouth, young man, or do you want Steve to make another house call?" Jerome could see the veins bulging in her forehead.

Jerome's smile faltered and he turned back to the breakfast, his eyebrows furrowing. He loaded up a plate of food for his mother and handed it to her after she sat down at the small table. Jerome watched from the kitchen as Lila bit into the eggs, he bit his lower lip to keep from laughing as she continued to eat the tainted food he prepared. _Perhaps next time I'll sneak in some laxatives, and then remove the toilet seat and hide it_ , he thought to himself, which only made the giggle fit worse. His body began to spasm as he held back his laugh, his eyes filling with tears from keeping himself quiet.

After Lila was finished with breakfast, Jerome headed to the door. "Where are you going?"

Jerome grit his teeth but let his face fall neutral as he turned to face her, "Work." He answered, fighting to keep his tone even.

"Not until you get those dishes clean." Lila held out the plate for Jerome to take.

Jerome felt the corners of his lips twitch in anger, his body trembling as rage bubbled up inside him. He inhaled deeply through his nose to try and calm himself and he reached out, taking the plate from her. _I could always smash this over her head._ He fought back the urge and began to do the dishes, trying his best to drown out her nagging voice, he could feel his body aching from stifling the anger he felt; but at least now he had a way to channel it, something that made him feel something other than anger, resentment and jealousy.

When he was finished with the dishes, Jerome went into the bathroom for bandages and tucked them into his pockets before he headed out, thankful that Lila didn't give him any grief as he passed out the door, but he did catch the judgemental gaze of Jeremiah. Jerome went to his favorite place, looking out at Gotham under the light of day, it didn't look nearly as beautiful as it did at night. He pulled up his sleeve without hesitation, the arguments and conflicts of the day right on the surface, still tugging at his nerves, he knew one way to get them out. He pressed the blade to the patch of skin near the crook of his elbow and slid it across, whimpering in pain when his skin parted.

Jerome looked at the blood expectantly, feeling only a cheap imitation of the feeling he had felt earlier, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, had he not done it deep enough? He pressed the blade to his fresh wound and cut deeper, but once more he barely felt anything, even after seeing all the blood. He sighed and dropped to his knees, tears filling his eyes, what cruel joke was this? The one thing that had made him feel good didn't even feel good anymore, and it hadn't even been a full day yet.

Jerome bandaged his arm and slid his sleeve down, looking down at the useless knife in his grip, what good was it now? He heard a soft meow and jumped a little in surprise, he looked down at the purring cat that was now nuzzling against his leg. "Hi, Patches." He forced a smile, but to be honest he didn't feel very much like smiling. "Where's Tara?" He asked, looking down the hill toward the circus, Patches was The Fat Lady's cat, a much beloved pet. Jerome ran his hand along Patches' white fur, wincing when a few drops of his blood stained its fur. "Shit.." He sighed and tried wiping it off, but all it did was smear it.

An idea pushed its way to the front of Jerome's mind, something he had thought about before but it was merely just a passing fancy, something to be ignored and forgotten about. He looked around him to make sure no one was coming and grabbed Patches by the scruff of her neck. "I wonder.." Jerome whispered, watching as Patches hissed and struggled against him. He looked down at the knife in his hand and then to the soft underbelly of the white cat. Before he could stop himself, he thrust the knife forward. His brain began to feel fuzzy, his heart racing, soon his vision went black and he felt his body collapse onto the ground. Something wet landed on Jerome's face and he jerked awake, his eyes wide, "What-" He looked around, noticing that it had begun to rain. He looked to the knife in his hand and felt his stomach twist at the sight of all the blood covering his hand and the knife.

Taking a deep breath, Jerome turned his attention to the now lifeless body that lay beside him. He looked back down at his hands, silently chastising himself for what he had done, but no matter what he told himself, he couldn't deny the relief he felt. Jerome took a firmer grip on the knife and thrust it forward into the mass of white fur once more, the sound of the knife slicing through skin and organ set his veins on fire and he lost his breath for a moment, pushing him to stab into its body over and over until it was almost unrecognizable. Jerome dropped the knife and looked at the blood on his hands and felt the corners of his mouth spread into a smile, he found himself laughing once more, maniacally, that feeling he had felt when he had cut himself had transformed and strengthened tenfold. He laughed at the sky as the rain washed the blood from his hands and his knife, he could feel it in his mind, he was becoming free, he was on the precipice of something great and liberating, he just didn't know what. 


	3. Gasoline

Jeremiah woke with a start, he touched his chest, feeling his heart race just beneath his palm. Nightmare. His hands clenched and he sighed through his nose, reaching over to his nightstand to grab his glasses; he could feel it against his skin, that all too familiar itch that was begging to be scratched. He knew what he needed to do to satisfy the ache.

Jeremiah looked at himself in the mirror as he got dressed, he was lanky and pale, much paler than Jerome was, but then that was no surprise as Jerome had always been the one to go running out during the day or forced to do strenuous physical labor for the circus out in the hot sun. Jeremiah pulled on his favorite dark brown cardigan and quickly combed his hair, he gave a glance to his watch, it was nearly six in the morning, he'd only have a short window of opportunity, he knew he had to use it wisely, he couldn't risk there being too many people on the streets of Gotham.

Jeremiah knelt down to his bed and reached underneath to grab his backpack, he opened it and turned on his bedside lamp, after making sure everything was there, he zipped it back up and turned out his light. He slung the backpack over one shoulder and inhaled deeply through his nose as he left his bedroom. He cast a glance to his slumbering brother on the pull out couch and wrinkled his nose, he could feel nothing but disdain when he saw him, because he saw him for who he truly was: a monster.

Jeremiah snuck out of the house and kept to the shadows as he made his way out of the circus and to the city just below the hill. He'd have to venture farther this time, keep to the shadows and stay away from his previous targets, otherwise the GCPD would be onto him. He kept his adventures modest, only choosing to indulge once a year, while the rest of the year he kept himself busy with his studies, his puzzles and brain teasers to keep his mind sharp.

Jeremiah knew this city like the back of his hand, he had seen blueprints in the library and commited them to memory, he had always had an easy time remembering things, no matter how complicated or vast. He weaved through the back alleys of Downtown Gotham, his heart racing as he frantically scoured the area for his next target. Aha.

Jeremiah looked up at the tall delapidated house, it was near falling down at this point and was covered in caution tape with a large "SOLD" sign plastered on each side of the house. Clearly the buyers bought the land with mind to tear down the house, as there were no redeeming features of the house, and Jeremiah knew, he had always had an eye for architecture. This would be perfect.

Jeremiah hurried over to the back window and jimmied it open, thankful that it hadn't been so warped that it remained closed, he would've hated to have been forced to use the front door and risk exposure. He pulled himself through and dropped to the floor, his eyes narrowed when he saw a small rolled up sleeping bag on the floor in the corner, evidently someone had been squatting here.

Jeremiah heard soft footsteps coming from upstairs, he paid them no mind, he knew how to handle trouble if the need arose. He sat down on the floor and unzipped his backpack, looking down at the contents with a smile, his eyes dark and predatory as he studied his instruments of destruction.

Jeremiah slid on a pair of gloves and gathered the bombs into his arms, and looked at the door beneath the stairs, he had seen from the outside that it had a basement, so he knew that door must lead there. He walked over to the door and opened it quietly, slowly walking down the stairs in the pitch blackness. Slowly, his eyes got used to the dimly lit room and he could navigate easier, he placed the bombs against the load bearing beams and took out the soot covered lighter he had taken from Jerome.

With a smirk, Jeremiah flicked the lighter and held its flame to the fuses, he had made sure to make the fuses extra long to give him plenty of time to get away. He hurried up the stairs with his backpack slung over his shoulders, he stilled by the doorway when he heard the sound of someone descending the main staircase.

Jeremiah smirked and stepped forward into view, "Good morning."

"What the fuck are you doin' in my house?" An older man asked, his eyes wide.

"Well, according to the sign out front, I think it is safe to say this isn't your house, and it certainly won't be in a few minutes." Jeremiah couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"What are you talking about?"

"The bombs I've set downstairs will soon level this entire house. If anything, Gotham should be paying me for my demolition services."

The man's jaw dropped, "Y-You're lying!"

Jeremiah shrugged carelessly as he made his way back over to the window, "Suit yourself. Stay, if you'd like, and go down with the ship, as it were." He covered his lips to stifle a chuckle. The man screamed and ran to grab his things, his breathing panicky as he rushed up the stairs. Jeremiah pulled himself through the window and followed along the back alleys until he was a few blocks away, he crossed the street and stood at a corner of a four way intersection, whistling carelessly as he watched the house. The homeless man ran out the front door with his belongings and dog clutched in his arms, disappearing among the buildings only a minute before the bombs blew.

When the bombs exploded, the glass of the windows blew out and a loud groaning was heard as the load bearing beams, now weakened, gave way and the house crumbled, sheetrock and bricks banging together as it went down. Screams were heard as people ran towards the blast, frantically dialing the police no doubt. Jeremiah found himself smiling as he watched a small fire begin to grow until the entirety of the destroyed house was engulfed in flames. He felt a chill run down his spine, his nerves tingling in a most delicious way.

As the firefighters came barreling down the road, Jeremiah took his leave, walking nonchalantly back into the darkness of the alley ways, making his way back up to the circus. He could feel the excitement begin to lessen already, with a sigh, he tossed his gloves into the dumpster behind one of the buildings and ran a hand through his hair, he'd have given anything to make that thrill last longer.

Jeremiah remembered the first time he discovered the thrall of fire, he was seven, burning ants with a magnifying glass, and he had wondered to himself what else he could burn. It started simply enough, some dead grass here, a balled up piece of newspaper there, but they all burned too quickly. Finally, he spotted one of Jerome's shoes lying outside while the younger twin was running around playing in the grass, Jeremiah had tilted the magnifying glass until the beam touched one of the shoes. It took a while before Jeremiah finally saw smoke, he had almost given up on the venture, but he watched with baited breath as a small flame perked up from the smoke, soon charring the canvas fabric. Jerome had thrown a fit, furiously stomping out the fire and cursing Jeremiah's name. Lila had come out to see what was wrong, while Jeremiah had just hid the magnifying glass behind his back and feigned ignorance.

The magnifying glass had been fun for a little while, but it was very limited Jeremiah found, but lighter fluid, now that was fun. When Jerome had contracted lice from one of the clowns' children, Jeremiah had doused his hair with lighter fluid as he slept and lit a match, hovering over Jerome with a dead eyed glare; but he had been interrupted, Jerome had woken up and screamed after seeing his brother standing over him with a lit match. Ever since then, Jerome had been a very light sleeper, something Jeremiah loathed, it left him so limited in his dealings with his younger brother.

When Jeremiah turned eleven he had made his first bomb, he had watched the pyrotechnics guy from afar, studying his work for weeks. It didn't take him long to craft his first bomb, he had found quite a few of his materials in the trash or just lying around the house, and as for the gunpowder, it was easy enough to steal a sufficient amount from a drunk and passed out pyrotechnics expert.

Jeremiah had taken the bomb to one of the dumpsters and lit a match, pressed it to the makeshift fuse and tossed it inside before bolting. He watched from a safe distance as the bomb exploded, its parts colliding with the unforgiving steel of the dumpster, creating loud bangs. The trash inside caught fire easily and he watched with wide eyes, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, he felt alive.

Jeremiah came back to the circus, a small sweat gathered on his brow from the rush of adrenaline, this had been the first time he had ever demolished a house, and he knew there'd be no going back to destroying dumpsters and setting fires to old mattresses in alleyways.

"What's got you smiling, you throw a baby into traffic or somethin'?" Jerome asked with a smirk as he polished a pair of The Snakeman's boots.

Jeremiah's smile fell and he scoffed, "That sounds more like something you'd do, Jerome." He stepped over to his younger brother, looking down at him in distaste. "How's your nose?" He flicked his finger against Jerome's near broken and still scabbed up nose.

Jerome groaned in pain and pulled back in reflex, his eyes tearing up from the pain in his nose. "Fuck you." He growled.

"Language, dear brother." Jeremiah chastised as he walked back to the trailer.

"You're right, bro! How oh how will I ever hope to find a suitor when I don't act like a proper lady?" Jerome batted his eyelashes and let out a giggle at his own joke, his giggle soon growing into a cackle.

Jeremiah's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, he could hear it in Jerome's voice, he was becoming more quick to speak his mind regardless of consequence, the old always frightened Jerome was fading from view. This may be a problem, Jeremiah thought to himself.


	4. Scalpel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Blood, animal death.

Jerome sat hunched over his journal that night, furiously writing in it, allowing all his emotions and pent up aggressions out onto the paper. Within those pages he didn't have to pretend, didn't have to be brave, didn't have to be normal, he could bring all his darkest secrets and inner thoughts into the light without ever having to worry about being judged. It had been a month since his birthday, and it was almost his anniversary of his _discovery_ , and already he could feel the pins and needles beneath his skin, an itch he couldn't quite scratch. He pressed his hand to his chest as he reread the pages he had written that day after killing Patches, he felt his heart flutter with excitement and the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a smile, his even breathing soon giving way to soft pants. It had to happen again, he _needed_ it. He tucked his journal under his bed and pulled on his leather jacket, feeling excitement rise deep within him. 

Jerome left the trailer, closing the door behind him as gently as he could. His hand slid into his right jacket pocket and he played with his knife, allowing his fingers to trail along the cold metal, his mind swarming with delicious chemicals already at the mere thought of what he was about to do. He left the circus and made his way to the city below, keeping to the shadows as often as possible. In the darkness he could be free to be himself, there was no one to please, just him and the vast emptiness where he was safe. He heard a soft panting coming from one of the alleyways he passed and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He turned into the alleyway, his heart pounding in his ears as he eyed the stray dog sitting near the dumpster, looking up at him with hope in its eyes, silently begging for a scrap of food or the smallest of affections. 

Jerome almost felt guilty for what he was doing, but he couldn't help himself, couldn't stop himself, and he didn't want to. The dogs' whimpering died down easily enough when Jerome wrapped his hands around its throat, he dug his thumbs forward into the mass of matted fur and grinned when he heard a strangled cry soon followed by the sickening crunch of its windpipe. The dog went limp in his arms and he dropped it onto the ground, quickly crouching down to its lifeless body to plunge his knife into its chest. Blood pooled over his hands and onto the ground, he withdrew his right hand and admired it in the moonlight, it looked like burnt oil. He ran his thumb over the tips of his fingers, admiring the slick wetness they were coated in and he fought back a moan of relief, he could feel it in his mind, he was so close to freedom. 

Jeremiah watched from the shadows, his eyebrows furrowed in shock and horror at what his younger twin had just done. He swallowed and licked his dry lips, his heart hammering furiously against his ribcage; the disgust he felt for his brother was now coupled with a fear for what the younger twin was capable of. Jeremiah knew Jerome, despite their differences, they were very much identical, in more ways than just their looks. He knew that these little dealings in the dark would only sustain him but for so long, and like a drug addict, he would need to escalate things to achieve the same thrill. Jeremiah hurried back to the circus, his body tingling with fear, he gave no reason for Jerome to love him, and he knew that when Jerome did finally snap, he would be one of his first targets. 

Jeremiah stepped into the trailer and eyed Jerome's bed, he had seen him stuff his journal underneath it many times, of course Jerome was under the impression that Jeremiah didn't know of its existence. Jeremiah lifted the thin mattress from the frame and grabbed the beaten up journal, he cracked it open and began to read through the pages. The entries started out innocently enough, pages upon pages of teenage angst, but after his birthday there was a massive change, even Jerome's handwriting and tone had changed, the words scrawled out frantically in various colors of ink, drawings of bones and gore doodled in the margins, it was like his brother was someone else entirely. Jeremiah's eyebrows furrowed a moment as he read through the first dark entry, _Jerome cut himself? So that's why he rushed into the bathroom and had spent so long at the sink_. Jeremiah could still hear Jerome's sickening cackle from that night, and it made his blood run cold, he knew that he'd no longer be able to manipulate Jerome like a puppet with strings, he was breaking free of all his conventions and Jeremiah knew he wouldn't be able to contain him for much longer. He heard the crunch of rocks under boots outside the trailer and quickly slid the journal back under his brother's bed and ran to his room, shutting the door behind him. 

Jerome quietly entered the trailer and tiptoed to the bathroom and locked the door after he stepped in, he flicked the light switch on with his elbow and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was splattered with blood, he had gotten carried away with the movements of his blade and it had flicked blood onto his skin. He chuckled and touched at the blood on his face absentmindedly with his blood stained hand, admiring the way the coagulated red complimented his red hair. His mouth strained to a grin and he let out a cackle, bouncing up and down excitedly, the high from his latest kill still prevalent and fresh, his mind swimming in chemicals. 

Jeremiah's fist clenched, there was that _laugh_ again. Jerome had never laughed like that before, in all the years Jeremiah had been around him, the younger twin had always had a soft and small laugh, very reserved, this sounded like a completely different person. This certainly changed things. Jeremiah had never been a coward, but his main drive in life had always been self preservation, and he knew that he was very much in danger right now. He locked his bedroom door and sat down on his bed, letting his head drop into his hands as he rocked back and forth, frantically searching for a way out. Jeremiah knew that Jerome was a ticking time bomb, and he didn't want to be around when he finally blew. An idea crept its way into Jeremiah's mind and he smirked as he began formulating a plan, though he couldn't control Jerome as easily anymore, he had their mother wrapped around his little finger, she would be the major player in his little play if all went according to plan. Jeremiah chuckled to himself, _That little book of yours, Jerome, it will be your undoing_.

Jerome felt dizzy as he came down, his heart decreasing its erratic beating and slowing to a normal heart rate. He looked at himself in the mirror, the blood a reminder of what he had just done, he felt his insides twist with guilt, but only for a moment before it subsided entirely. He washed the blood from his hands and face and washed the sink, being careful not to leave any of it for his family to find. He slid out of his leather jacket and slid his long sleeve up, looking down at the scars on his forearm, the scabs had finally fallen off, leaving behind thick raised up pink scars. He slid his finger along them absentmindedly and sighed, he enjoyed what he felt but at the same time, it was terrifying, he felt as if he were on a train headed for a blown out bridge and the brakes had stopped working. Jerome had always felt out of control in life, but this was something different entirely, his transformation would be a painful one, he knew, but he didn't have time to care, he was sick of being a prisoner in his own mind. 

Jerome left the bathroom and tossed his jacket onto the other side of his bed where he didn't sleep and lifted his bed to retrieve his journal. He sat down on the edge and after looking to make sure no one had woken up, he opened it and began to write. His body swayed a little as a warmth filled him, reliving those moments felt almost as powerful as when they actually happened, he had never felt like this in his entire life. The anticipation was always the worst: those moments right before the kill when he had to stalk, when he had to make sure he was alone, and the moment right before he'd silence those little lives forever, his mind would be screaming at him to stop, but he couldn't; it always happened so fast, his heart would race and his hands would quiver, but as soon as he saw the blood and felt their bodies still in his grasp, he felt a complete release. All those tense spots in his body were gone, the bumps and ridges in his mind smoothed out, and he experienced pure bliss, but it never lasted. _Never_. As soon as he came down, he'd feel sick to his stomach thinking of what he had turned into, he felt like a monster, but he had noticed with each kill that period of self loathing grew shorter and shorter. His regret and guilt lessened with each kill, and much to his dismay, the pleasure did as well, so he had started going bigger, doing it more often, never wanting that feeling of pure happiness to stop. 

Jerome slid his journal back under his bed and flopped down onto his bed, lacing his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He knew it would only be a matter of time before killing the local strays and vermin would lose its appeal and he would have to go further. The thought scared him. Sure, he had fantasized plenty of times about taking revenge on all the people who had hurt him, but could he actually do it? He wasn't the most athletic of people, and he wasn't great at defending himself, so he knew he needed a large advantage, something to even the playing field. Jerome felt a grin begin to spread across his face as he let the fantasy play out in his mind, he knew the first person he wanted dead, and nothing could stop him; he wasn't afraid of the pain anymore, he had embraced it, made love to it, and with the absence of fear, he was closer to reaching the key to his freedom, and he knew who held the key to his shackles. 

_I'm coming for you, Mommy Dearest._


	5. Nitroglycerin

Jeremiah sat on the folded up couch, his legs crossed as he balanced a sketchpad in his lap. He looked down at the labyrinth he had drawn, it was the most intricate one he had ever planned out before, with nearly fifty dead ends, and sixteen correct ways through. His mind had always flourished when given puzzles; all the brain teasers, puzzles, and crosswords he came into contact with, he had always gone through them within minutes, his mind going into overdrive to solve them. It was second nature to him. Maths and sciences of all types came easily enough to him, they all boiled down to the same fundamentals, and those fundamentals he knew better than anything else. 

"Whatcha workin' on, baby?" Lila cooed from the kitchen table, a cigarette pressed between her first and second finger while she held her cup of coffee that was dosed with two shots of vodka.

Jeremiah perked his head up, now was time to put his plan into motion, Jerome wouldn't be home for quite some time, now was his opportunity. "Mother? I've been thinking about something.." he sighed.

"Oh? What about?" Lila took a sip of her coffee.

"I want to go to Saint Ignatius once summer ends this year."

"The college? But you  _just_ graduated to eleventh grade this summer."

"I'm sure the college entrance exams will be simple enough for me." Jeremiah stood and heaved a sigh, letting his head fall a little. "I have to get _away_ , mother."

Lila looked over at him with sad eyes, "I know, baby. You're meant for a lot greater than this, I knew it would only be a matter of time before you left for better things, I just..didn't realize you wanted to leave this early.."

"It's not that, it's.." Jeremiah gulped, "It's _Jerome_. He's scaring me, mother, I think..he's going to _hurt_ me." He said, making sure to lay the dramatics on thick. 

Lila set down her coffee, "What do you mean?"

Jeremiah pulled out the pull out bed and retrieved Jerome's journal, "He left this out on his bed, and it was open. I only saw a couple sentences..but.." His lower lip quivered. 

Lila's eyes widened and she hurried over to him, snatching the journal from him. She opened it and began to read it, furious tears filling her eyes by the time she read the last four pages.

Jeremiah watched her with a smirk, it hadn't been difficult to replicate Jerome's handwriting. After Jerome had left the trailer that morning, while Lila was still asleep Jeremiah had scribbled a few entries into the journal, mimicking Jerome's handwriting and tone perfectly. He thought back on what he had written and felt pride swell within him, it would be the final nail in the coffin for Jerome, to be sure. 

Lila slammed the journal onto the kitchen table and stepped over to Jeremiah, pulling him into a hug. "My baby..I'm so sorry. I.." She sniffled, "I always knew there was something wrong with _that boy_. I won't let him hurt you. I just..I don't know how I'm gonna be able to afford Saint Ignatius for you.." She pulled away, her eyes conveying worry and panic. 

"They have scholarships, my transcripts should be more than enough to show them that I'll be a great addition to their school, and I've no doubt that I'll pass the entrance exam with flying colors. The only thing is.." Jeremiah sighed dramatically, "I don't want Jerome to find me, he'll hurt me if he finds me, so I can't ever come back here." He said in a sad tone, though in truth all he felt was relief at the prospect of getting away.

"Baby, I'll do whatever I need to to make sure you're okay. I'll miss you, but..your safety comes first." Lila gave his shoulders a squeeze. "I'll call Zach, he'll get everything sorted." She left the room to go to her bedroom and came back with a stuffed sock. "I've been saving some money, I want you to have it." She reached into the tube sock and retrieved several rolls of money. "Zach will come get you tonight when Jerome is asleep, I want you away from him as soon as possible. You can stay with Zach for the rest of the summer until school starts, and I'll send you any extra money I make, okay?" She hugged Jeremiah tight to her chest.

Jeremiah's skin prickled and he grimaced when she hugged him, although he played the good son very well, he felt nothing but disgust and annoyance with his mother. She was nothing more than an promiscuous alcoholic, and it made him sick. He sympathized with Jerome entirely, he wasn't fond of Lila either, but true to Jeremiah's self preserving nature, he put up with her bullshit and put on an innocent and happy face to keep himself from becoming a punching bag just like Jerome.

That night, Jeremiah sat on the edge of his bed with his duffle bag by his feet, full of his clothes, books and a few other odds and ends. He felt his nerves tingle, this was it, he was finally breaking away from the hellscape that was the circus and his maladjusted family. He had seen Saint Ignatius many times during the circus' stay in Gotham, it was a very prestigious school, only the most intelligent and/or wealthy attended, and he knew without a doubt he would be accepted. All well known colleges loved a sob story, a charity case, anything that would give them an edge with their sponsors and the mindless big wigs that funded them. 

Jeremiah's door opened slowly and he looked to the door, scared for a moment that it might've been Jerome, but when he saw his uncle Zach step into the room, his shoulders slouched a little in relief. He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and gave a silent nod to his uncle before leaving the room, he cast one last glance to his sleeping brother, his eyebrows furrowed for a moment. 

"Come on." Zach whispered and opened the trailer door.

Jeremiah nodded with a sigh and left the trailer, almost grimacing when he saw his mother standing outside. "Mother." He forced his lips to frown.

"My baby.." Lila sniffled and hugged him tightly, "Please write to me, okay? I love you so much."

Jeremiah cringed, Lila didn't know the meaning of those words, and it certainly didn't help that rum was heavy on her breath. "You too." He forced himself to say and gave her a small squeeze back. His uncle clapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow him, he gave his mother a small nod and a sad smile before leaving with his uncle. He climbed into his uncle's truck and felt himself smile before he could help himself, in one swift move he had secured his own future and damned his brother. _Check mate_.


	6. Sutures

Jerome awoke the next morning to the sound of dishes clashing, he jerked awake with a soft gasp, his heart jumping into his throat for a moment at the sudden surprise. He looked toward the kitchen where the sound was coming from, waiting for the fuzzy haze of sleep to leave his vision.

Lila gripped the edges of the sink, anchoring herself, the vodka she had guzzled earlier had finally caught up with her, making her body sway with dizziness. "Get up." She said simply, her tone sounding almost dark.

Jerome sighed inwardly, already missing those silent blissful hours of sleep he had gotten, he wanted nothing more than to say "fuck it" to the entire day and just roll back over and sleep.

"Are you deaf?!"

" _No_ , but if you keep that up, I _will_ be." Jerome grumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth in annoyance at her screeching voice. He climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a tshirt, not caring to cover his scars, who would notice them anyhow? He sauntered over to Lila, one fist clenched. "Yes, mother?" He fought to keep his tone even.

Lila took a deep breath in through her nose, doing her best to steady herself, both physically and emotionally. She held out his journal, keeping her eyes cast downward as she seethed. "I found something of yours."

Jerome's eyes widened and he felt his heart race in panic, his mouth and throat instantly going dry as he was pushed into a fight or flight response. He could already feel his skin begin to sweat, he swallowed nervously and cleared his throat, "What about it?" He asked, his voice wavering. Now she knew, she knew his dark dealings in the shadows, she knew what her son was becoming. He felt naked, stripped bare, every insecurity and worry thrust into the spotlight.

" _What about it_?" Lila hissed and gripped his journal, quickly turning to smack Jerome against the side of his head with the book. "I read what you wrote about your brother..you were planning to _burn him in his bed_? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!" She screamed, dropping the book to free her hands before she began to beat against his chest with her fists.

Jerome shied away from her furious hands, holding up his arms in defense. "What are you talking about?!" He yelled in confusion.

Lila scoffed and lowered her fists, "I knew you were sick, but..I never realized it would get this bad." She sighed, "I just don't know what to do with you anymore." When she looked into his eyes, Jerome was at a loss for words, she had never given him that kind of look before, a look that was pure hatred. Lila huffed and walked over to the front door, "Stay here." She ordered before leaving the trailer.

Jerome stood there for a moment, too shocked to move, what on earth was she talking about? He leaned down and grabbed his journal, true, there was very compromising things in there, things no mother would ever hope to find in her son's journal, but he had never written about wanting to burn Jeremiah. He flipped to the last entry he put in and his eyes widened when he saw that the writings continued, he didn't remember writing these.

The passages went on in his feverish handwriting, detailing all the violent plans he had for Jeremiah, like setting his bed on fire while he was still in it, and stabbing him in the throat with a cake knife because everyone forgot about Jerome on his birthday, just to name a few. Jerome's hands trembled, had he written these and forgotten about it? He remembered that one night when he had locked himself in the bathroom, watching his own blood pool in the sink before it was washed away, according to Jeremiah he had been laughing the entire time, but he didn't remember that. Jerome gulped as he came to the final page, he felt as if his mind were on fire, how could he have written all this and not remembered? Was his darkness beginning to affect his mind?

That's when he saw it.

At the very bottom of the last entry was a drawing of a chess piece, a queen. Jerome's heart dropped, it _couldn't_ be. He furiously read the last entries and the more he looked, the more he noticed small inconsistencies in the writing and colors of pens used. It had been Jeremiah's writing, it just _had_ to have been. Jerome growled in frustration, he slammed his journal down on his bed and marched over to his brother's room, banging his fist against the door. "Jeremiah!" He yelled, his hands quivering in anger.

Nothing.

Jerome slammed his fist against the door once more, landing a dent in the cheaply made door. He growled, his vision beginning to blacken near his periphery, he grabbed the doorknob and threw open the door, his eyes widening when he found it to be empty.

Jerome looked around the room in confusion, he looked at the bare closet and bookshelf and felt his stomach twist. Where was Jeremiah, and why were his things gone? A soft glow caught his attention, he looked over at the lamp on his brother's nightstand, and there beneath the soft light of the lamp sat a chess piece.

Jerome stepped closer and he felt his mind begin to whirl in a mixture of anger and shock. The chess piece was a queen, and beneath it was a note that said: " _Check mate_ ". He screamed in frustration, grabbing the edges of Jeremiah's bed and flipping it, turning over his nightstand and bookshelf in a rage. Jeremiah had tormented Jerome plenty over the years, but never had he done something so treacherous as this.

" _Jerome_! What are you doing in your brother's room?!" Screamed his mother.

Two clowns barged into the room, pushing past Lila, to grab Jerome. Each took one of his arms, Jerome screamed and struggled against them but he was no match for them physically. They dragged him out of the trailer, a few people near them heard the commotion and turned to look at the source of the screaming, but upon seeing it was Jerome, they all turned and looked away.

Lila left the trailer and stepped over to Jerome, who was still fighting against the grasp of the clowns, and cupped his chin in an iron grip. "I swear, if I ever see you in his room again, if I ever hear you breathe his name.." She whispered lowly, she didn't need to finish her sentence, he knew very well where it was headed.

One of the clowns took both of Jerome's arms and bent them painfully behind his back, making Jerome groan in pain, he tried desperately to fight against the clown but all it did was earn more pain. The other clown balled up his fist and thrust it forward, colliding with Jerome's nose and upper lip, almost immediately blood began to pool from his nose.

Jerome let out a pained cry, a little dizzy from the force of the punch. He kept his eyes on his mother throughout his beating, after the first few punches his pain began to lessen as his body began to release endorphins, soon becoming numb to the attack. And that was when he began to _laugh_.

Lila looked on in horror as Jerome laughed, she had never heard such a sound come from him before, and it was frightening. The clowns were very heavy handed, but with each punch and kick, all it earned was a high pitched cackle, a manic laughter that made her blood run cold. Jeremiah was right, he truly was a monster.

"Why the long face, ma? Don't I look good in red?" Jerome asked with a wide grin, blood coating his teeth and dripping down his chin. He tilted his head back and let out a howl of laughter at her shocked and horrified expression. How good it would feel to finally be free of her, she was his warden and she held the key to his rebirth. _Give me time, ma, just give me time._

Nearly twenty minutes went by before the clowns halted in their assault. The one holding Jerome's arms let him loose and watched as Jerome collapsed onto the ground, devoid of any strength, but still Jerome continued to laugh. Lila left first, her stomach twisting as his laughter echoed in her ears, making her sick to her stomach. The clown who had beaten him gave him one final kick to the stomach and spat at him, "You'd better hope your mom doesn't call us again, we won't be so nice next time." He said, forcing his tone to sound menacing, but all it did was make Jerome giggle. The clowns left him laying in the grass, crumpled up in the fetal position, blood covering the lower portion of his face.

Jerome touched his lips and drew back his hand, admiring the red on the tips of his fingers. His nerves began to ache and he bit his lower lip, it would have to happen tonight, it hadn't been long since his last little excursion, but already he could feel the need rising upwards again. _Too bad you're not here, Jeremiah, I could've used you as target practice_ , he thought to himself. Jerome knew what his older brother was, he was a coward with a love for chaos, he would satisfy that darkness inside him and play the innocent one during the light of day, and at the first sign of trouble he'd run or point a finger, he always had. 

As Jerome lay there on the ground, he looked upwards at the sky, silently watching the clouds pass by and thinking of anything he could to silence the growling darkness threatening to come out. _Not yet_ , he reminded himself.

"Jerome..?" Came a soft voice.

Jerome's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he slowly propped himself up, he looked toward the direction of the voice and his eyes widened when he saw a familiar face. "Opal? What are you doing here?" 

Opal stepped over to him slowly and crouched down, "Your face.."

"Oh, don't worry, I was born with it." Jerome teased with a smirk and a strained chuckle, his vocal cords near raw from laughing.

"Who did this to you?"

Jerome pulled himself up onto his feet, his knees knocking at first. He smoothed out his clothes and wiped the grass and dirt from them, "Just another day in the life of the circus." He said under his breath. Jerome chewed his lower lip as he looked at her, feeling a different kind of hunger clawing at him. "You never did answer me. What are you doing here?" He asked lowly. 

Opal sighed, "I kinda.." She nervously scratched at her arm and looked away, "I ran away.."

Jerome reached into his pocket and felt his shoulders relax a little when he felt a cigarette brush against his fingers. He withdrew it and held it between his lips, pulling out a lighter from his other pocket. He cupped his hand around the flame and lit the end of his cigarette, breathing in the acrid smoke. "So, what's your story anyhow, doll? Step-dad get too "handsy" with you one night, so you thought you'd just run off and join the circus, is that it?" He asked bitterly, teasing the cigarette against his teeth with his tongue.

Opal's eyes narrowed, "I don't have a step-dad." She crossed her arms in defense.

"Ah, so lemme guess, it was your uncle then, hm?" 

Opal looked away, tears filling her eyes, "You don't have to be an asshole, you know.."

Jerome sighed softly and looked away, "Look, I'm sorry.." He scratched the back of his neck, "If you couldn't tell, I'm having a bit of a bad day. How about I make it up to you?" He smirked, his eyebrows raised.

"How?" Opal raised an eyebrow.

"I'll show you my favorite place. Come on." Jerome turned and headed toward the outskirts of the circus and its numerous trailers, not bothering to look behind him to see if Opal was following him. He stopped at the cliffs' edge and looked out at the expanse of the city beneath them with a sigh.

Opal stood beside him, looking at the city with wide eyes, "I've never seen it like this.."

"Most haven't. The people of Gotham tend to be born and raised here, never leaving, they never get an outside look to see just how good they have it."

"I was born here, I've never left, in my opinion _you're_ the one who has it good." Opal sighed.

"It's everyone's dream when they're a kid, _join the circus_! Why not? Get to hang out with clowns and elephants all day, eat nothing but popcorn and cotton candy. Who wouldn't love that? Well, let me tell you, it isn't what it's cracked up to be, I speak from experience." Jerome blew out smoke and took the cigarette from his lips, flicking his thumb against it to let the buildup of ash drop to the ground.

Opal remained quiet for a moment, she kept looking at Jerome, which he saw out of the corner of his eye, but he remained quiet. "So, are you ever going to tell me who did this to you?" She asked gently. 

Jerome let out a sigh of annoyance, "It's nothing, I've had much worse." He finally turned his attention to her after she had stared at him for about the sixth time, "You just gonna keep staring at me, or what?" He asked bitterly, quirking an eyebrow.

Opal looked away in embarrassment, "Sorry.." She whispered and looked down at the city once more. She had a question burning in the pit of her stomach, but she didn't know how to ask it, she fidgeted nervously.

Jerome watched her with furrowed eyebrows, noticing the grave look on her face. "You ok, doll?" He asked softly, feeling bad for how he had talked to her just minutes before.

"Did you really start that fire?" Opal asked softly, not daring to look him in the eyes.

Jerome felt his stomach twist, how had she known? "You didn't leave after all.." He whispered and Opal nodded shyly. So she had seen him getting beaten, no wonder she had been so concerned about the blood on his face. He regarded her for a moment, he already had a lie in mind, but what use would it do him anyhow? He had nothing to hide, he had already gotten his ass kicked for the fire. "Yeah." He inhaled the smoke deeply and let it flow from his nostrils, "Why?"

"Just curious. Why did you do it?" Opal had an idea, but she couldn't be sure.

Jerome let out a small chuckle, "I got a little jealous, I guess you could say. My brother has always beaten me, in everything, that night would've just been yet another win for him, so I made him _lose_.." He avoided her eyes. 

Opal's face turned a soft shade of pink, "Does that mean you like me?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Jerome shrugged nonchalantly, but his heart raced. "What is this, twenty questions?"

Opal sat down on the cliff, her legs dangling over the edge, she swung them a little and looked up at him, "Well, just so you know, he wouldn't have won."

Jerome nearly dropped his cigarette, "What?" He looked down at her and felt his heart flutter with hope.

"You wouldn't have won either." Opal shrugged, "I barely know you guys, you're cute and all, but it would take a lot more than escorting me to the circus to win me over." She teased.

Jerome felt somewhat disappointed, but at the same time he felt pride that it was something Jeremiah hadn't been the best at, even if it meant Jerome hadn't either. He slowly lowered himself to the ground and sat beside her, tucking his left foot beneath his right knee so that only his right leg dangled over the edge. He remained quiet for a moment before he finally looked over at her, "Why _did_ you run away?"

Opal sighed, her shoulders drooping a little, "Nothing serious, I just..got so tired living in that house. My dad is sick, and.." She took a deep breath, "I saw my mom with another man. My dad isn't even dead yet and already my mom found someone new."

Jerome chewed his lower lip, "What's wrong with your dad?"

"Lung cancer. He was a firefighter for a really long time, and I guess it just caught up with him. He's been in the hospital for a while."

"When did he get admitted?"

"The day before I came here." Opal drew one of her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around it. "I went to see him at the hospital, one of his friends called me to tell me he collapsed at work, mom couldn't get away from work so I went. I stayed with him all day, and we just talked, it was nice, him and I never really got to talk much because he was always at work. In a way, I was kinda glad he got sick, that meant I could see him for longer than two hours a day." Opal looked over at Jerome, "He said that as soon as he got better he wanted to take me to the circus, but him and I both know he's not leaving the hospital. So..I went home, put on one of his shirts and I came here, it was the closest I could get to going with him."

Jerome reached out slowly and touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry.."

"It's okay." Opal wiped away a stray tear.

"Listen, Opal.." Jerome removed his hand from her shoulder, "You should go back home."

Opal's eyebrows furrowed, "But-"

Jerome stood and inhaled the last puff of his cigarette before chucking it over the edge of the cliff. "Go home."

Opal stood up with a frown, "I can't go back to that house.."

"Then stay with a friend or something, I don't know." Jerome shrugged, "You just can't stay here. You see this?" He pointed to his bloodied and bruised up face, "That's what goes on here. The circus looks great from the point of view of the audience, sure, but that's because the lights are down low and we slather so much face paint on that you can't see the bruises underneath. You would constantly have to uproot your life, you'd have no friends or family, and you'd be surrounded by drunks, junkies and abusive assholes. Now tell me, doll, is that the kind of life you want?" He asked, grabbing her upper arm, he hated to shatter her dreams this way, but he knew she deserved better, and if he could do one good thing in life, let it be this.

Opal's face had become tear stained, she sniffled and shook her head, "No.." She said in a broken whisper.

Jerome sighed and let go of her arm, "You'll thank me one day, trust me. Now. Go. Home." He said, the last three words dark and low in their tone.

Opal wiped at her cheeks and sniffled once more, casting her gaze downward, "Ok..bye, Jerome.." She said sadly and began her descent down the hill towards the circus.

Jerome watched from afar, making sure Opal left the circus, only when she had set foot onto the street did his body relax and he let out a sigh, tears coming to his eyes. The closest thing he had had to a friend and now she was gone, and in less than a month they'd be packing up to head to the next city, and on and on it would go. _I'm nothing but a rolling stone.._


	7. Fuse

Summer ended slowly that year, Jeremiah had grit his teeth through it all, just counting the seconds until he could be rid of his dolt of an uncle and finally be free amongst people who had more than double digits in their IQ.

Jeremiah sat in a room of about thirty people, everyone's heads bent downwards as they scribbled in their tests. Just a couple weeks prior he had completed an entry test with a perfect score, with that and his transcripts, the college accepted him almost too eagerly. Jeremiah was the youngest person to ever gain entry into the college, now all he needed was to complete his placement test to see which classes he would be put into. Without the stress of his mother, the circus, and his lunatic brother, he finally felt as if he could breathe, and he felt something resembling peace begin to wash over him. No longer was he interrupted by Lila's screaming, or her moaning for that matter, nor did he have to deal with his nosey brother peeking over his shoulder whenever he drew in his notepad. This newfound sense of freedom was almost intoxicating, he could start from scratch, he could finally be the person he wanted to be; all he needed now was a new name, the final step to his new becoming that would sever all ties with the people he once called family, no longer would he share the shame of the Valeska name.

Jeremiah went with his uncle later that week to the court house, after paying a fee of forty dollars and swearing before the judge, his name was legally changed to Xander Wilde. He teased the new name against his tongue, it felt strange, but he liked it, now nothing stood in the way of his rebirth.

After days of waiting with baited breath, Jeremiah received his dorm key and his class schedule. He smiled down at the schedule, a wave of pride washing over him at the high level courses he was given, it wouldn't take him long to become an engineer at all if he kept up this pace.

Jeremiah had always wanted to become an engineer, he had always loved to build things, he loved to break things down to their simplest parts before assembling them into larger parts to see how it all worked together. He knew where he wanted to be in life, and this was the perfect step in that direction, he would be renowned for his work, called a hero as he beckoned the dawn of a new age.

Jeremiah unpacked his things in his dorm room and sat down on the edge of his bed silently, taking in the small room and its amenities, the rooms for people on scholarships weren't the best, the better of the rooms were always saved for people who brought in a good chunk of cash, but this would do. He felt the corners of his lips twitch for a moment before they spread into a wide smile and he began to chuckle gleefully as he felt the shackles of his former life loosen and drop to the floor, he was free.

That night, Jeremiah sat at his desk, studying the blueprints to the school, committing all the twists and turns of the large buildings to his memory. He almost didn't sleep that night, far too excited to fall asleep. He laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a smile, it was quiet but for the soft ticking of his watch, no Jerome, no Lila, it was blissful, but at the same time the quiet was almost unbearable, he had gotten so used to falling asleep to his mother's yelling.

The next morning, Jeremiah woke up early and went to the communal showers, he stayed beneath the water still as you please, his eyes closed as his muscles relaxed beneath the hot water. He heard the sound of people walking into the shower behind him, their flip flops smacking against the tiles with every step.

"If it isn't the smart boy." One of the guys said with a sneer.

Jeremiah sighed, "Go away. Don't waste the few brain cells you have left trying to intimidate me."

"What the fuck did you say?"

Jeremiah turned off the shower head and turned, looking at the three guys with a blank stare. "I didn't stutter, or is it that you're hard of hearing? Should I repeat myself?" He asked before grabbing his towel on the rack to his right. He towel dried his hair and wiped off his face.

That was the first day he felt the full wrath of bullying, never had he been treated that way, it had always been Jerome that got the punches and kicks. Jeremiah was left on the wet floor huddled in the fetal position, his left eye already turning a light shade of purple. He felt his insides twist, he had never felt fear like that before in his life, always he had been able to use his words to get out of any confrontation, but this time his words had damned him. He almost felt bad for Jerome, if this was anything like what Jerome had felt, he couldn't find it in him to blame his younger brother for acting out the way he did.

Jeremiah tried to keep as much distance as he could between himself and his bullies, but they always seemed to find him. He stopped trying to be clever, stopped trying to have the last word or come up with a witty retort, he simply stayed still and let them hurt him, he knew he was no match for them physically. Though his inner darkness screamed for revenge, he knew he couldn't act on it, he was in the spotlight now, any act against them would be traced back to him and he would lose his scholarship. Thankfully the beatings only lasted a year, his bullies had graduated and so there was no one left to hurt him, but the emotional scars didn't heal nearly as fast as the physical ones. Jeremiah had never been a fearful person, but that first year had changed him. He had been caught in a corner with no way out but to take the hits that came, and try as he might to fight against it, it had made him shy and skittish. He fought with himself constantly, trying desperately to regain control, but nothing he did could shake the terror he felt.

 


	8. Syringe

Jerome sat on the edge of his pullout bed, slowly rocking back and forth with his ears covered as Lila writhed in her bedroom with some random clown, their screams of ecstasy filling the small trailer. He growled in annoyance, his nerves were on fire and the need to strike was bubbling beneath his skin, begging to be let out. He had indulged just the day before, never had he felt this strong of an urge, nor one that occurred so quickly after his last. His bloodlust was getting worse, and he knew there would be no denying it, he needed to act.

The clown left Lila's bedroom, fighting with his zipper in a drunken attempt to zip up his pants. He gave Jerome a scowl and shuffled out of the trailer, grumbling under his breath. Lila came out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, wearing her snake dancer outfit, though it was disheveled. "Do the dishes, they're pilled up in the sink." She told Jerome as she grabbed the bottle of vodka from the top of the fridge, popped the cap off and took two big swigs of it.

Jerome looked up at her, hatred burning in his eyes. It was bad enough he was grounded, but forcing him to listen to her trysts and then telling him to do the dishes? How dare she. "No." He whispered, his heart racing. He needed to get away, the darkness was overwhelming him, he needed to kill again. He rushed to the front door and threw it open, rushing out into the night.

Lila followed after him, fussing, and tugging at her skirts so they wouldn't touch the ground. "Jerome!" She yelled, following him as he weaved his way through the trailers.

Jerome's ears began to pound, his mothers screams and the noise from the circus and its audience echoing in his ears. He covered his ears and let out a groan, his insides twisting almost painfully.

Lila grabbed Jerome's arm and yanked him backwards, "Get back here, Jerome!" She slapped him across the face. "I'm tired of you leaving the house a fucking mess, and where do you think you're going? You're grounded." She fumed.

The moment Lila's hand hit his face, he felt it. Something snapped in his mind, like a thousand pound anvil suspended in the air, the rope was severed in one blow and his mind began to freefall, and it was beautiful. Jerome's mouth began to stretch wide in a grin, a low chuckle beginning to leave his throat as he looked at his mother, his gaze darkening. He looked around him for some sort of tool, he knew what he had to do now, he knew what step he needed to take to finish his transformation.

Laying amongst a bag of tools was a hatchet, belonging to one of the many "handy men" of the circus. Jerome gripped the hatchet's handle and withdrew it, breathing heavily as he looked at Lila through his eyebrows in a predatory stare.

"Jerome..w-what are you doing?" Lila asked with wide eyes, taking a step backwards.

"Oh c'mon, ma. Where's your sense of _humor_? Don't ya wanna _bury the hatchet_?!" Jerome barked with a grin and cackled as he lifted the hatchet and swung it down, the first blow landing in Lila's chest. Lila shrieked but her mouth soon filled with blood, silencing her. Lila fell to the ground and Jerome gripped the hatchet with both hands, raising it high above his head before bringing it down, the sharp steel now imbedded in her face, nearly splitting her skull in two. Blood began to spurt everywhere with every beat of her heart, the sound of her facial bones breaking under the hatchet was almost orgasmic.

Jerome began to cackle louder, the sounds of his violence almost lost to his maniacal laughter. He lost track of how many times he struck her with the hatchet, soon her body was a mangled mess of blood, loose skin, and broken bones. He finally lowered his arms, feeling a burn begin to ache in his muscles from the force he had exerted.

As Jerome sat there in the grass, he felt the rush of the kill swarm his mind, he had never felt anything so good in his life, this was nothing compared to his disposal of stray animals, this was more. He knew there would be no going back now, he was finally free of her influence, she'd never yell at him again, never sic her lovers on him when he needed a beating. He was free.

Jerome's hot breath came out in white puffs in the cool night air and he felt tears roll down his cheeks, this feeling was the closest thing he felt to peace in all of his eighteen years. He looked down at his mother and chuckled, hugging his knees close to his chest as he marveled at her for a few minutes, lost in the pleasure of it all; but like all good things, it never lasted. The adrenaline began to lessen and he felt the full weight of the hatchet in his hands, and the weight of what he had done.

Jerome's stomach began to twist as panic set in, how was he going to dispose of the body? He wasn't even close enough to being physically able to drag her off somewhere, and cutting up her body would take a lot of time. He envied Jeremiah, his older brother would have had a thousand contingencies in his back pocket, while Jerome just flew off the handle and dealt with things as they came. He stood up and took a deep breath, looking around him to make sure he was alone, and slowly made his way back to his trailer. He stopped when he saw someone knocking on the trailer's door, and he hid in the shadows, watching from afar.

Jerome squinted in the dark, he saw a cane swinging delicately in the man's hand and his heart pounded, it was Mr. Cicero. If anyone could help him, it was him. "M-Mr. Cicero?" He asked quietly as he slowly made his way over to the blind man.

"Yes, Jerome?"

"I need your help." Jerome whispered, his heart beginning to pound in his ears. "I..I've done something bad.."

"What happened?" Cicero turned to him, his eyebrows furrowed as an all too familiar scent hit his nose.

Jerome stayed silent, and though Cicero could not see the blood on Jerome's face or the hatchet in his hands, he knew what Jerome had done. Cicero knew it would've only been a matter of time, Lila was a cruel woman, she had always pushed Jerome too far. "Come to my trailer, hurry." Cicero lead the red haired boy to his trailer, swishing his cane from side to side as he walked, and listened out for any stray sounds that would indicate someone was coming their way.

Cicero opened his trailer door and stepped in. Jerome followed and closed the door behind him, his heart racing. "I don't know what happened, I just..I lost it.." Jerome sighed, "She's just so.."

"I know.." Cicero sighed, "You can clean up in my bathroom, I should have some color safe bleach in there."

Jerome headed to the bathroom but stopped, he turned his head slowly and raised an eyebrow, "How did you know, Mr. Cicero?"

"I can smell the blood on you, Jerome." Cicero sat down on his couch, rubbing his temples with his hand. "I've told you before if you needed help, you could come to be, but..I didn't think it would be like this."

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Jerome chewed his lower lip nervously.

"No, Jerome, I won't."

Jerome felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hurried into the bathroom and began to undress, he took his blood covered cardigan and brought out the color safe bleach from under the sink and began to scrub the blood stains from the fabric. He lifted his gaze and looked at himself in the mirror, his face was almost completely covered in his mother's blood, he felt his mouth twist into a crooked smile and he let out a giddy giggle before he could stop himself.


End file.
